#y’all are lucky this idea will never be a fic but I could absolutely draw art for this

[no1ryomafan]

Been having a lot of anxiety to share the getterxmegamanzx crossover idea I’m cooking up due to a load of factors-that I won’t get into unless someone asks-but one thing that I’m trying to remind myself is “of all the things I could’ve crossed over getter with that isn’t a mecha, this is better than if it was something mainstream”

Because if I was more obsessed with mainstream media I absolutely could crossover this over with undertale/deltarune and everyone would fucking kill me especially because I would find a way to make it scarily work

[hearts-hunger]

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see. 

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way. 

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

 “I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love. 

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one. 

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food. 

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile. 

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. 

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​, @cosmicbreathe​​​​​, @prettyboyskywalker​​​​​, @happyxdayxbitch​​​​​, @radiowallet​​​​​​, @marvelous-glims​​ ♡

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please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[59writes]

THE DRAW (PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

if you’re reading this as like an actual fic: first of all I’m sorry. how did you end up here. it’s most definitely 2 am go to bed. this fic was literally made because of a fucking uquiz about “ what kpop boy are you enemies to lovers with”

second of all, ignore any chess mistakes. idk I know legit fuckall about chess, my brother just always bitches about it whenever I want to stop playing because I just have my king left or smth like that because I know I’ve lost. mf reads chess books.

like look: I UNDERSTAND the game and how it works, and the idea that you have to think ahead and plan. but I’m adhd as shit and there’s no such thing as time or planning. ergo, I suck. like I SUCK. I feel like if I applied myself I’d be great but fuck that. I’m a bad chess player and y’all gotta deal.

third: I mention League Of Legends at one point. I’m so cringe yes shut up ok but I’ve been special interest-ing League for several months now and I need to let you know that Josh, y/n, and Jeonghan play a mean jungler/adc/support combo (respectively). I have so many more headcanons typed in my draft or whatever but I know nobody wants to see it so

anyways pls enjoy this train wreck of a fic lol

If you had known playing chess would have led to this bullshit, you never would have started playing in the first place.

You wouldn’t have worked your ass off, wouldn’t have pored through strategy books and watched live-streamed games, wouldn’t have competed for months to become an official grandmaster. Absolutely not. None of that hard work and pride deserved to be wasted on Yoon Jeonghan.

Thanks to your exceptional academics and study habits, as well as your headlining pursuits in chess, private schools crawled to your front door and begged for you to give them money just so they could brag about having you as arm candy. You didn’t care. It was free scholarships, a chance to leave your tiny town, a chance to start anew with people just like you. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t know your fame status, or would be used to the junk by now. Some would probably be even more popular than you.

So you grabbed a paper, scribbled a signature on, and packed your bags.

You had picked an academy for the arts, as logic games apparently counted as one. They figured they could do something with your whimsical essay writing as well, submit you in scholastic contests. It didn’t matter. You were free, and there to play some goddamn chess.

They had a hardcore club there, meeting daily on weekdays and occasionally for casual play on the weekends. Everyone there was excellent, all clever players with quick logic and a competitive edge that you hadn’t seen in a while. It was refreshing, but still not enough of a challenge.

You swept the floor with your classmates, and rose to the top of the club’s rankings within a week.

Of course you lost games here and there, as everyone did, but for the most part any game you began was imbalanced from the beginning. Your opponent could at best only defend themselves, only able to pick off pawns or bait bishops that inevitably ended in a brutal checkmate.

You were top of the class, and for once it took some effort. You felt like you’d earned something, and you were actually interacting with serious chess players who wanted to learn, not fawn over your work. They played fair and every game was fun.

That was until the blond bitch came in.

He sauntered into the class about a month after you’d hit the top of the leaderboard, long blond hair tied back in a neat and slick ponytail. You barely noticed, immersed in a game with another boy, Joshua. You studied the board as your opponent looked up, grinning wildly.

“Jeonghan!” He called out, waving at the other boy.

Jeonghan’s ponytail whipped across his shoulder as he turned, matching Josh’s smile with a killer beam of his own and jogging over.

“‘Shua!” He chirped, playfully wrapping an arm around Joshua’s neck, strangling him while his other hand smooshed Josh’s hair around.

You watched them wrestle for a second before clearing your throat. “Josh, your move.”

“Aw shit.” Josh says, wrestling Jeonghan’s arm away from his shoulder. “Back to the ass kicking.”

You grin. “If you hadn’t made that dumb move literally third turn in-“

“Hey! We are NOT talking about that!”

You snort and glance at Jeonghan, who’s gone quiet, studying the board. He crouches down and whispers in Josh’s ear, both of them scanning the board. Josh finally nods, pushing one of his pawns forward.

“What was that about, Hong?” You ask, capturing said pawn with a neat L from your knight.

“Nothing.” He replies sweetly, while Jeonghan smirks.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Josh doesn’t reply. The rest of the game is tensely quiet, interrupted only by Jeonghan murmuring into Joshua’s ear every few minutes, a devil on his shoulder.

But it was fine, you were ahead by a few pieces, your bishops slowly inching towards a checkmate. The next move was it, the game in the bag.

And then your queen is gone.

Jeonghan takes the liberty of removing it from the board with a proud smile while Joshua cackles.

The game doesn’t last much longer, soon the both of you down to just pawns and your king, and then just the kings. A draw.

And let’s be honest here: Joshua kinda sucks at chess.

Josh counted it as a victory, though, hitting Jeonghan with a high five that echoed around the classroom like a firecracker. The boys talked briefly while you set up the board again for the next duo and packed your bag, ready to head to your dorm for a much-needed nap.

You wave to Joshua and turn to go, only making it a few steps before someone grabs your wrist. You whip around, ready to tell them off, only to be met with Jeonghan interrupting whatever swear you were about to say with a sharp smile.

“I’m playing you on Monday.”

He lets go of your wrist and turns around, resuming his talk with Josh as if nothing happened.

Rubbing your wrists ruefully, you headed home.

•••

Of course, his bullshit didn’t stop there.

You did, in fact, play him on Monday. He had you cornered within five minutes.

The next time, in four.

He gathered a crowd a few games in. Every time you’d meet his gaze he’d smirk, eyes brimming with some sort of superiority that made you furious, always endlessly cool and calm. He’d flick his hair over his shoulder every so often, even stopping to talk to spectators while you puzzled over the board, trying to hide your stress.

You were second place by Wednesday.

•••

“You cheated.”

Jeonghan just raises a brow.

“Put the rook back.” You growl, firm.

“Sorry?” He ignores your request, instead poking at one of your previously captured pawns he has resting on the table next to him. “Can you move? I’ve almost got checkmate.”

“My rook, Yoon.” You hold out your hand. “Give it back, or put it back yourself. H6.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you resign? If we were using a timer you’d have been disqualified sometime last week.”

It’s taking every ounce of self control to not slap the living shit out of the smug bastard. “Jeonghan, if you don’t-“

“How’s the game going here?” The chess club leader had made her way to your table, grinning widely upon seeing her favorite students.

Jeonghan smiles kindly at her while you curl in on yourself, trying not to explode. “It’s fine, Ms. Lee. Almost done with this one.”

“Are you missing a piece? Looks like the black rook-“

“Must have fallen off the table.” Jeonghan chirps, ducking under the table and returning with the piece in hand. He sets it with the rest of his captured black army, sending a thumbs up at Ms. Lee. “Thanks for noticing, we don’t need to lose any more pieces.” It’s an innocent sentence, but it makes you turn a boiling red. Lose a piece, my ass.

“Well played, both of you.” She replies, patting Jeonghan on the head fondly before walking off. The blond rolls his eyes, ducking his head so Ms. Lee can’t see.

“Jeonghan, you asshole.” You hiss as soon as Ms. Lee is out of earshot. “I saw you take it out of your pocket, you lying-“

“If you’re not moving, I’m going to.” Jeonghan replies, moving his bishop forward to capture your queen. “Checkmate. Good game.”

You can only gape as he grabs your hand to shake it and walks off, approaching Joshua.

That was when you really knew you hated him.

•••

You studied his games from then on, partially to learn, partially to gather evidence. If he was cheating this consistently with other players, you could definitely get him kicked out of the club and subsequently your life once competition season started, as well as learn and potentially steal his strategies.

Infuriatingly, though, every single game he played besides the hellish ones with you were completely fair. No pieces being slipped into his thin hands when nobody was looking, no clock taps that discreetly took a few seconds from his opponent’s timer. Even with Josh, who he was best buddies with: not even a joking steal or a prank of any kind.

It was just with you.

Every single game you played together, he managed to do something to piss you off, if not blatantly cheat. If it was one of the days you had spectators, his harassment would come in the form of heavy looks and obnoxious “I’m waiting”-esque moves: tapping his nails on the desk, raising a brow, checking his watch.

And if you were alone, you basically had to glue your pieces down to the board to stop them from slipping their way into his pockets. It was obvious when he did it, too, always sending you a smile, too innocent.

It was infuriatingly adorable how proud he was of his nasty behavior. And he was focused too: none of his other opponents got the thought and effort he put into outwitting you and attempting to steal things without you noticing. As much as you hated him, you had to admire it.

Which is why it was so hard to finally draw a line and refuse to play with him anymore.

Though he shrugged when you put your foot down, his dark eyes watched you the rest of that club session. Every time you caught him, he held your gaze for a moment before looking away and resuming cheerfully animated conversation with his opponent.

God, how was he so easily likeable?

He respected your decision, though, and didn’t even attempt to talk to you. It was genuinely polar and strange, and it made you lost in thought as the months passed.

You almost missed the absence of anger, as stupid as it was. School had always been boring and simple, and chess with Jeonghan was the only thing to have made you frustrated in a long time, to have truly challenged you in a long time.

Even when you buckled down on trying to get him out of your head, he seemed to follow- being friends with Joshua (and honestly most of the other club members) almost always devolved into chats about the club and “why aren’t you playing Jeonghan anymore?”. Josh often suggested playing video games with the two of them, and you had to refuse (although playing League with Josh was so fun).

It was lonely.

Stupid Jeonghan.

•••

Finally, tournament season started.

Following (what was apparently) club tradition, the entire team dyed their hair between practices. You settled with a simple streak of blue that was stolen from Josh (he went completely teal, the madman).

The next day, Jeonghan came to practice with his blond ponytail gone, replaced by a dark brown undercut, hair bluntly chopped to end around his jaw.

Unfortunately, it suited him.

He saved a blond spot for a bit of Josh’s blue, however, and Josh dyed it for him in the middle of the clubroom, laughing the whole time. They’d planned it, clearly, as you were pretty sure Josh didn’t just carry around dye in his backpack.

Which means he knew you two would match when he did your hair.

It was confirmed by an apologetic shrug when you cornered him while he threw away the dye-stained gloves.

“Give him a chance, please y/n?”

“Hong Jisoo. You know how I feel about that dumbass-“

“y/n-“

“Why are you so insistent on having us talk again? He’s a two-faced-“

“y/n, you’d like him. He’s funny, and genuinely nice. I don’t know why he was acting like that with you, but that was almost three months ago. Give him a chance.”

“You should be glad I like you, you stupid fucking rat.”

Josh laughs as you walk away, fuming.

Unfortunately, you did like that stupid fucking rat, and so when he offered dinner after an out-of-state tournament (he pinky swore he’d pay) you finally gave in.

Jeonghan coming?

lol yea

that ok?

not rlly

I’ll give him a chance tho

:D thank u

you owe me

I’m buying ur food :(

josh we r literally getting fast food

you owe me

lol k >:)

[getalittleclosey]

under 50k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 100k

100k+

☆ the beginning of everything by thedeathchamber 31k

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

--

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

☆ to kill the mess we’ve made by misandrogyny 43k

And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

☆ heart open, bloodstain on my sleeve by silkbombs (mulberrygrey) 36k

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry admits, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “I stared at you for a good while before I finally got the guts to come up to you. You looked so pretty sitting there, with your little ankles and your pencil in your mouth, so enthralling… art in front of art.”

Louis’ not sure what to say, so he just kind of sits there, eyes bugging out as he stares at Harry.

“I mean, like you’re not an object!” Harry rushes out, babbling.

“I just, there’s something about you that’s so captivating, and maybe it’s the way your eyes are like a watercolor painting of the sea, or how delicate your hands look when you draw, but I just wanted to get to know you. It’s not like I pick up random boys at art museums usually, I swear. Not that I’m trying to pick you up! Unless you want to be…God, fuck I’m sorry this is so awkward now. I can go, um, if you want."

--- Or, the one where Harry's the long limbed, gangly, sweetheart who just happens be a high profile art thief who conducts heists for a living and Louis' the loud, pushy art student who just happens to steal his heart.

☆ a king beside you by stylinsoncity 26k

When the aliens invade, the last thing Louis expects is to fall in love.

☆ the boys of summer by afirethatcannotdie 45k

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

☆ don’t let the tide come and take me by kiwikero 29k

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

☆ introduction to dynamics by juliusschmidt 29k

Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.

☆ saved tonight by objectlesson 31k

Harry is the world's most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis's biggest fan. Louis hasn't written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It's probably destiny.

☆ once upon a dream by objectlesson 27k

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

--

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

☆ rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied 29k

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

☆ life was a song, you came along by rainbowninja167 38k

It's embarrassing how long it takes Louis to recognize his own song. Niall had sung it as a bright, hopeful love song, and that’s honestly how Louis had always assumed it should sound. But this new voice, slow and rough, stripped of any backing instrument, has infused the lyrics with just the tumultuous mix of fear and defiance that Louis can remember so clearly from the night he wrote them. It’s not a comfortable thing, to feel like someone is singing all your secrets back to you.

Louis is a songwriter trapped in a lie that could ruin his best friend's career. Harry owns a record store, distrusts everyone in the music industry on principle, but loves Niall Horan's newest album. A modern retelling of Singin' in the Rain.

☆ learning to eat by photo41 29k

Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?!

Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

note: just to clarify this is NOT an eating disorder fic don’t worry

☆ runner on third by kikikryslee 40k

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

note: there are four fics in this series that total to 60k

☆ roots by cherrystreet 43k

There aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.

Enter Louis Tomlinson.

☆ once upon a dream by thedeathchamber 33k

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

note: there’s a 24k sequel for this!

☆ the melody you never heard by bananasandboots 30k

It's one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall's his best mate. Liam's been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can't disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis.

Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he's never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn't brought up in three years because it's stupid and embarrassing and confusing.

Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

☆ born to make you happy by objectlesson 26k

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

note: i literally had to take a break and reread this cause i love it so much

☆ close to nowhere by angelichl 35k

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

☆ adrenaline by reveries_passions 38k 

“Harry Styles,” Nameless Boy who now has a name says. Louis is too busy having an internal crisis to realize the boy has just introduced himself as Harry Styles. Harry Styles, only son of Des Styles, PhD, Dean of Harvard Medical School. Harry Styles, known by everyone and their grandmother. Harry Styles, star rower. Harry Styles, youngest enrolled student in graduate school at Harvard University. Oh my god, Louis thinks, mortified. I just slept with Harry Styles. As he reaches out tentatively to shake the boy’s hand, another thought hits him. Oh my god. Harry Styles is gay.

~

louis tomlinson, college dropout, up and coming dj, and gay activist, is the notorious owner of exclusive underground gay club, adrenaline.

harry styles, med student by day, partier by night, child prodigy and seemingly heterosexual son of harvard professors, is the youngest and arguably the smartest student at harvard medical school.

or: a one night stand wasn't supposed to become the greatest love story of the 21st century.

☆ bloodsport by tofiveohfive 40k

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

☆ the haunting of louis tomlinson helloamhere 31k

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade.

“I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

*** OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

☆ can i not like you for a while? by larryshares 43k

louis tomlinson is awful. harry is just as difficult, and they're both terrible to each other. it makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated.

☆ delight in masques by kassio 28k

Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.

When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.

(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it's due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

☆ no love like your love by rearviewdreamer 43k

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.  

note: i love vegan harry styles

☆ for neither never nor ever by fairytalelights 29k

Then Harry looked down. A newspaper was on the steps in front of him, looking new, like it had only just gotten delivered but no one had bothered to carry it inside yet. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. The unusual thing was the headline, Chernobyl - Half a Year Later, and the date in the corner. 5th November 1986. He looked up to stare at the girl in the doorway one last time, before he did the only logical thing his body knew how to do in this situation. He bolted.

or, the one where Harry travels through time and has to come to terms with losing everything he's ever known. Louis might be the only thing that feels real.

☆ worth dying for by whoknows 45k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

☆ listen to your heart by lovelarry10 35k

Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

*****

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

☆ another day gettin’ into trouble by whoknows 26k

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

☆ all the right moves by cherrystreet 32k

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

☆ play the odds by alivingfire 26k

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

[tracies-tales]

can we pleeease get another game gyaru ficlet 🥺🥺

as a matter of fact, i just passed 700 followers (i’m still reeling over that one!!) and i’ve been trying to come up with a new ficlet idea and LUCKY DAY MY FRIEND this is the first suggestion i’ve gotten in awhile!! and you know i love my gal pals, so really how can i say no? :D 

this is gonna be a semi-continuation of my last game gyaru fic so i’d refer to that one first maybe, but buckle up y’all we in for a wild ride~

(ps this one starts a little steamy/mild nsfw)

Daniella pushed Arina back against the wall beside their bed, leaning forward to place her leg between the shorter girl’s. She leaned to kiss her neck as Arina said, “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, be getting a mission debriefing or something right now?” Arina set her hands on Dani’s waist anyway, pulling her forward.

Dani giggled, “As opposed to what we’re doing instead?” She kissed Arina’s jaw, her fluffy hair tickling her nose. 

“Technically we could be doing this at headquarters,” Arina pointed out, biting her lip with a quiet moan as she felt Dani’s teeth nip at her jugular.

“Oohh, kinky,” Dani said, then peered up at her, “but I like having you here, all to myself.” She shifted up to press their chests together and leaned down for a kiss, which Arina enthusiastically reciprocated. Arina grasped at Dani’s scarf with one hand, and she had just slid her other into the mass of dark curls atop Dani’s head when they heard their work phone ring, making the pair groan in a much different context. 

“Come on, now?” Arina whined.

“Look what you did, you cursed us,” Dani said, giving her a peck on the forehead before she stepped away to answer. She brushed her hair out of her face before she pressed a button on the projector and typed in a short code. 

Veronica’s head appeared floating as a small hologram in the room. “Ladies, hope I’m not interrupting something,” she said.

“Nope, not at all,” Dani said with a tight smile. “What’s happening?”

“We’ve got a new lead,” she replied, the image suddenly showing a glass case which had a hole melted in the side of it. Whatever artifact had been within it was missing. “Security footage was shut down before the theft occurred in this vault, but the microphones planted in the same room picked up on the voice of your favorite villainess.”

Arina raised a brow as she straightened her vest, “Brianna herself showed up? Doesn’t she usually send grunts like Roxanne to do her bidding?”

“She does, which is what interested me so much about this,” Veronica said as the hologram switched back to her head. “The item taken was a watch.”

Dani and Arina exchanged a look. Arina said, “Oh shit, now she’ll be able to tell time. Guess we ought to turn in our badges now; it’s game over, guys.”

Dani nodded mournfully, “Maybe it even counts her steps.”

As Arina gasped theatrically, Veronica interrupted to say, “Yes, a watch which can show time across multiple timelines.”

Arina paused at that, “So, like…a watch that can read the future?”

“If the curator is to be believed, yes. The armed guards posted outside the vault were killed and the security system bypassed, which would have notified authorities of a break-in to begin with,” Veronica explained.

“Of course, leave it to Bri,” Dani said. “She might be a bit of a bitch, but she’s a genius.”

Arina rubbed her hands together, “So, what’s the mission?”

“Retrieving the watch is your top priority,” Veronica said. “An item so valuable fortunately was installed with a GPS tracking system, but the signal was lost just after they entered a small town called Onimore. You’ll have to do some digging once you get there to locate the exact building it’s in. You’re only to engage Brianna’s crew if it’s absolutely necessary,” she added firmly.

Dani scoffed as she tossed a small bead bomb up and caught it again repeatedly, “Stealth is our middle name, bosslady.”

“Yeah, tell that to the last five damage reports,” Veronica said. “Move out as soon as you’re prepared.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arina saluted her before she pressed ‘end call.’ As soon as the hologram was gone, Dani tackled her backwards onto the bed. Arina snorted, “Were you listening to a word of what was said?”

“Yeah, Brianna’s responsible, stole a watch, get it back,” Dani said, slipping her top off. “We’ll make it quick, she’ll never even know we’re late to pick up the car.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Arina grinned, pulling her down into a kiss. 

~~~

Dani and Arina eyed the barbed top of the electric fence. Arina set her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Damn, you’d think she’d at least have made her defenses a little more fun.”

“Tell me about it,” Dani replied, pulling a device which looked something like a Swiss army knife from her pocket. She fiddled with it until it folded into a clamp, which produced a soft electrical hum of its own. She squeezed the handle and closed it around a part of the fence, tapping at the chain-link a few seconds after. “We’re all set. Your move, baby bear,” she smiled.

Arina grinned back and jumped forward; she scaled the fence in due time, getting her own wire cutters from her pocket to laser-cut some of the barbed wire out of the way. She motioned for Dani to follow before jumping down the other side. Dani triple-wrapped her scarf around her neck so there was no excess flowing behind her as she fell, landing safely in Arina’s arms. Arina kissed her nose before putting her down so the two could make their way to the seemingly abandoned warehouse of a building.

Dani softly said, “Twenty credits says this is a trap.”

“You’re on,” Arina said, leading the way to the back of the building where an old loading dock was. She picked the lock of the human-sized door, peeking her head in without seeing anyone. She crept her way in, staying low with Dani right behind her. She froze and held up a hand when she spotted a guard. 

Dani narrowed her eyes and dug a metal bead out of a hidden pocket in her scarf. She gave it a squeeze between her fingers, waiting three seconds before chucking it at the back of the man’s head. He winced as it struck him, but collapsed a moment later as it released a cloud of gas which knocked him out. Arina dragged his body behind a box as Dani pressed forward, scanning the area. She noted there was a truck in front of every garage door to the loading bay and a large, two-panel trap door in the center of the floor, along with a crane hook hanging from the ceiling above it. 

She pointed up when Arina was looking her direction. Arina followed her finger and grinned, taking her grappling gun from its holster. She fired it at the catwalk above them, hooking it to a railing. She put her arm around Dani and hauled them both up. They grabbed the railing and hauled themselves up the remainder of the way, not noticing until Arina had unhooked the grapple that a guard was staring at them, jaw partly slack.

There was a moment of silence before Dani asked, “What, this rack too big for you?” before she grabbed the gun from Arina’s hands and shot the hook at him. It nailed him in the chest and knocked him onto his back. “Go, go move!” she said, turning the other way and sprinting.

Arina followed suit, retracting the grappling hook so he couldn’t pull it. They made their way to a control room with glass windows as an alarm blared to life.

“So much for stealthy,” Arina said. 

“It’s fine, this makes it more interesting,” Dani smiled, digging another bead from a pouch in her sash. She gave it a squeeze and threw it, the bead creating a minor explosion which cracked one of the windows into the office. Dani stood to the side as Arina moved in, slamming her gun into it to break it. She pushed her way in and unlocked the door, Dani locking it again behind her. She took a phaser gun from her own holster and took a position at the broken window, firing a stun shot at the first guard who appeared at the top of the stairs, making him fall backward and trip another.

Dani asked, “How’s it coming back there?”

“Working on it,” Arina retorted, pressing a button which opened the trap door. In the basement, a harness still around it, sat a metal crate. Arina grinned and figured out how to lower the crane, glancing over her shoulder to where Dani was ducking shots from the guards and firing back some of her own. “God you look hot when you do that,” she said.

“Thanks, I really like going for the plasma-swept hair look,” Dani said, wincing as there was a bang at the door. “You sure that’s the right crate?”

“It had better be, or I’ll skin Brianna myself,” Arina grumbled. “Meet me at one of those trucks?”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Dani said, getting up and throwing open the door. As the man on the other side stumbled forward, Dani kneed him in the face and shot him with a stun blast, followed by a shot at his cohort. Arina ran out and down the catwalk again, flipping a guy over the railing before she climbed onto the rail herself and jumped off. She grabbed the chain of the crane and slid down with a, “Woooo!” When she hit the bottom, she hooked the crate for them and called up, “Got it!”

Dani hit the switch to bring it back up before she left the room herself, jogging down the stairs. She shot a guard and said, “’Scuse me!” as she stepped over his body. She skid to a halt when she spotted a woman with short silver hair in a black suit with gold trim standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Brianna said, “Evening, girls. Leaving so soon?”

“Ugh, with the cliches, Bri. Find a new evil genius line,” Dani said. She quickly fired her gun, but Bri dive rolled to the side, drawing her own gun as she stood. She aimed it at Arina as she rose up on the crate. “Drop the gun,” Bri instructed.

A pulse of fear beat through Dani’s chest before she said, “If you say so,” and chucked the gun at Bri’s face. Bri had to dodge it as Dani ran forward, grabbing her wrist and moving it up so she could only fire towards the ceiling.

Arina started pulling back and forth on the chain, making the crate begin to swing. She pulled out her laser cutter and waited for the opportune moment, starting to saw through the chain so that it broke as it swung towards a truck. The crate landed on their floor, but not in a truckbed as intended. Arina groaned and started pushing it towards the vehicle.“Sorry hun, but you’re not robbing me today,” Bri said, twisting out of Dani’s grip, aiming her gun for Arina’s back. 

Dani shouted, “Ari!” and tackled Brianna as a shot rang out. Arina winced as it left a gash in her side, but she continued shoving the crate forward determinedly. 

“You girls don’t know when to quit, do you?” Bri asked, kneeing Dani in the gut and throwing her to the side. Dani hit the ground and rolled, dodging another shot from Bri’s gun. 

Arina said, “That’s one of our best qualities,” as she threw a flash grenade. She yelled, “Smile!” as their code word so that Dani would know what to prepare for. Dani shut her eyes just before the room exploded in a flash of blinding light. Bri stumbled back and put her hands to her face as Dani ran over, helping Arina load the crate into the truck.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Arina waved a hand. “It was a lucky shot, anyway.”

“Shit, wait, we need a key!” Dani frowned.

Arina twirled one around her fingers, “Lucky for you I nabbed one off an unconscious dude. Let’s roll.”

Dani grinned and jumped into the driver’s seat, shouting, “Get fucked!” out the window while Arina hit a button on the wall to open the door and climbed into the passenger side. She put the keys in the ignition for Dani, who slammed the pedal to the floor as soon as the engine revved to life, peeling out of the garage. 

Dani laughed as they sped past some guards, who fired at them as they made their way to the front gate. “Oh man, the look on her face,” she grinned, setting a hand on Arina’s knee. “You did good back there.”

Arina had a hand on her side, leaning back in the seat. “Not as good as you.”

Dani mellowed a bit when the wound was brought back to mind. “Hang in there, baby. We’re getting you home.”

~~~

Veronica stood with her arms crossed as Dani and Seth unloaded the crate from the bed of the truck. Seth tucked his dark hair behind one ear, the stripe of blonde hair moving with it. Veronica said, “Well, let’s take a look see,” and nodded to him. Seth plugged a handheld hacker into a panel on the side of the keypad lock, and moments later the light turned green with a click.

Dani moved to stand proudly by Arina, until she saw what it was that Veronica removed from the box. A hand written note with the words, ‘Better luck next time, xoxo -B’ was in her hand. 

Arina snatched the note and read it a few times before she said, “Son of a bitch.”

[sinfulsoulx]

Title: Mischief Managed

Summary: Dean gets blasted by a witch, the lingering aftermath means he has the power to do some ungodly things to you in-front of others. 

Words: 2′538

Warnings: Language, smut (smutty smut y’all. this is your warning)

Characters: Dean x Reader, mentions of Sam Winchester, Crowley, Rowena. 

Mun note: I’m open for requests, you’ll find all possible character fics/imagines in my navi. Feedback is very welcome and much appreciated. If you wish to be tagged in future fics drop me a message.

“Listen, giant,” Rowena scolded the younger Winchester from across the bunker table. “If it was a spell I would know. Your brother will be fine in a couple of days, the witch was an amateur, by hitting Dean with her spell she transferred over some power. All I can sense is a faint buzz, nothing to worry about.” With a roll of her eyes, she sat back in a huff, jingling her witch-y handcuffs. 

“Now Mummy, don’t pout, the deal still stands. Find the spell to lock the Devil away, the chains come off.” Crowley, also seated at the table, sat with a look of smugness towards his mother. 

"See, Sammy. I’ll be fine. We got bigger worries, so, get readin’, all of you.” Dean looked towards the demon and the witch. Meanwhile, you were just sat silently stewing in your own fury. The witch who attacked Dean was your friend, she was every bodies friend. You were furious that she could turn on you all for no reason and even more furious that yet again, Dean could have died. For the sixth time this week. 

Your shoulders were rigid, you hated this war-zone you’d all landed in. Everything was a battle, there was no time to relax, no time to breathe and no time to show how concerned you were. Dean was woven into every cell in your body, the mere thought of losing him was enough to make you want to scream. 

Dean, seated across the table, was watching you, the way you shuffled and shifted, tensed up with every turned page of your research. He frowned to himself. He knew you two hadn’t had much time to talk to each other the last few weeks, never mind anything else. It bugged him as much as it did you, so when your eyes lifted up to grab your beer, he made sure to catch your gaze. 

You offered him a small smile, letting your eyes linger on his long enough to soothe him and bring a softer expression to his sculpted face. Urgh, that stupid, beautiful face. You looked back down to read, even knowing his eyes remained fixed on you. You wondered what he was thinking about for a moment, until a voice appeared inside your head, startling you from your reading. 

“I wish we were alone. And naked. Yeah. Definitely naked. Damn I miss seeing her naked.” Those were Deans thoughts, echoing inside your head, making you practically choke on your beer as you looked at him with a pair of wide eyes. 

Dean frowned, needing a few moments to consider the possibility that you heard him. “Wait, what? Did you hear me? What? No. Don’t be stupid Dean.” He scolded himself, but you heard every word and as Sam asked if you were okay, you just nodded. Really, you were nodding to Dean, whose mouth popped open in shock. 

It didn’t take long for Sam to drift back into his studies, but you continued to just blink towards Dean, wondering what the fuck. “Can they hear me? Hellooooooooooo,” he mentally yelled, eyes drifting between Crowley, Sam and Rowena, who didn’t bat a single eyelid. “Oh this is sweet,” he thought, picking up his beer to take a sip. 

You shook your head, a small smile on your face. You didn’t say anything and figured you were all way too busy to explore this witchy side effect, so you returned back to reading with a small sigh. That was, until Dean’s voice appeared back in your head. “Do you have any idea how much I want to lay you on this table and fuck you senseless? It’s been too long.” His eyes were trained on yours, but you didn’t look up. 

You did blush though, you also stood your book up to try and hide your face from his view. “Would you like that?” He asked, and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Stop it, Dean.” You mentally scolded and both of his brows tweaked up. “I heard that,” he replied to you. This was weird. 

You were both having a conversation without actually opening your mouths and all you could do was hope to Chuck that Dean wasn’t about to use it to his advantage. “Don’t you miss me touching you? My lips against your skin, my cock filling you up?” The smirk on his lips made your eyes widen and cast back down. 

“You do, don’t you?” He chuckled in your head and you pressed your hands to your face, attempting to cover the blush in your cheeks. You tried not to think anything, to not entertain him. You were sat here with three other people, now wasn’t the time to let your thoughts roam. 

“If we were alone, you’d be stripped down and spread across this table. I’d be kissing your neck, biting below your ear just where you like it,” he was clearly going somewhere with this, but a gasp escaped you and your hand came pressing down on that exact spot. “What the fuck, Winchester.” You mentally cursed. 

“You felt that? Oh man, this is my lucky day.” It was like you could hear the glee in his mental voice. “Dean,” you warned, shooting him a brief glare, only to find his green eyes dancing with absolute mischief. Oh boy, you were so screwed. 

“I know you wish we were alone too.” He was so sure, and he was right. “Yeah, but we’re not and you need to stop teasing me.” You countered back, hearing a booming chuckle in your head, bringing a coy smile to your face.

Man, he was ridiculous. Such a boyish, playful soul, you wished he could let that side of him show all the time. “I miss how you taste,” his voice was like a whisper, bringing back the shade of red in your cheeks. 

His words instantly made you think of all the times he did taste you, which you imagined, was exactly what he wanted. “I love the way you squirm under me while I tease you, kissing your stomach, nibbling at your thighs.” 

He was watching your every reaction. You shifted in your seat as you felt as though his teeth were actually grazing your thighs. “I love getting you so worked up that my name comes out as a plea. Because all you want is to feel my mouth in-between your legs. Makes me so hard. You’re perfect,” he purred. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, not daring to look up at him. You tried to pretend you couldn’t hear him, but he knew fine well you could. “I’d love to spread your legs and taste you right now. Just imagine, my tongue sliding up your wet folds and pressing against your clit.” 

His words weren’t alone, the ghost of his tongue caught you by surprise as you felt a little pressure against your clit. You breathed in a shaky breath, gripping your book tighter at the edges. “My fingers massaging your thighs as I swirl my tongue around, just enough to get you to moan and roll your hips.”

“Dean,” you tried to sound like you were warning him. In a way, you were, you’d be so embarrassed if anyone realised what was going on, but damn, it had been so long since you felt his touch, his tongue - how odd it was that he wasn’t actually touching you, but you could feel everything as though he was. 

Dean didn’t listen to your warning, of course, he was enjoying this far too much. He wanted to see just how far he could push you before you cracked. “You’re so hot. I love it when you grind your pussy against my mouth, the way your fingers lock in my hair. The way you moan for me. Only me,” his voice was a seductive whisper. 

That alone would be enough to make you wet, but that, paired with the feeling of his tongue swirling against your clit, your panties were soaked. You needed him. The real him. You needed to touch him. “Dean, please.” You looked up at him, your needy eyes igniting a primal one in his own. 

“Please what?” His head tilted to the side as he looked at you, feigning innocence. But you felt an odd invasion slip inside your walls, the feeling much like that of his fingers and you chocked out a soft mewl. It earned you a brief confused look from Rowena, but you shrugged it off. 

His fingers curled inside you, brushing your g-spot and you pressed the side of your palm against your lips to stifle any noise. “You like that, baby?” Dean licked his lips and you couldn’t now peel your eyes off him. You didn’t want him to stop, but you didn’t want to be caught. 

Your senses were on fire, your hips were almost wriggling on your seat. “I think you’re trying to kill me,” you whispered your thought to him, making him chuckle out-loud. 

He shrugged to Sam who looked up and even started a conversation with him as he continued his torture. You felt a curl in his fingers, his mouth sucking your clit and flicking his tongue in figure eights. “Dean. Dean, stop,” you sounded flustered. At least, you think you did, how could you possibly tell when you weren’t actually talking?

All you knew was, you were barely holding it together. You were struggling to stay quiet and you felt like you were drawing closer and closer to an explosive release. When the conversation between him and his brother ceased, he looked towards you with a smug grin. “I bet you’re soaking.” Dean slowed his torture, allowing you to breathe a little easier, but you could only shake your head at him. 

“I need you. Please. Actually you,” you tried to steady your breathing, tried to plead with him with your eyes. You just wanted to feel him against you, actually touch him. “So you don’t think I should let you cum, here? At this table? Wouldn’t you like that?” He chucked in your head but thank god, he relented. 

You let out an audible, shaky sigh. You felt empty, your stomach all twisted in knots and in dyer need of a fix. “Yep, I can’t stand it either,” he spoke out loud, wiggling the book as if that was what you were sighing about. 

“Beer run?” He asked and you nodded. God, yes. Anything to get out of here. You both stood up and Dean had strategically hid the bulge in his pants with the book he was holding. “We have plenty beer in the fridge,” Sam commented, earning himself a dirty look from you.

“We’re going on a beer run.” Dean patted his shoulder and started walking off. You followed behind, a little wobble in your legs. You went into the garage, far enough away from the crowd and you delivered a push to Dean’s chest. 

“You fucking asshole,” you tried to sound angry, but man, you were too turned on. You clawed him back towards you and pressed your lips in a feverish kiss against his. Dean growled, gaining control with his tongue. “I’ve missed this,” he mumbled against your lips. 

His hands unzipped your skirt and let it drop to your feet. You were tearing at each others clothing right there in the middle of the garage, no care in the world for who could walk in. Once you were stripped down, he picked you up and moved around to the hood of Baby, setting your ass down but keeping your chest against his. 

"Dean,” you sighed, pawing at his back, hooking your legs around his waist. “I know, baby, I know.” He whispered, quite smugly against your lips. He lined the tip of his cock against your entrance, sliding it up and down in a slow, frustrating and teasing rhythm. You moaned and whimpered, dragging your nails down his spine. 

“So wet for me,” he cooed against your ear and finally, you felt the tip of him slide into you. A small sigh of relief escaped you as he moved inch by inch, pulling out half away only to thrust all the way into you. 

You cried out, and he gave you a moment to adjust, tweaking at your nipple with his thumb and finger until you gave him a nod. He moved slow at first, like he was savouring the feel of you around him. His grip on your hips was harsh, his lips against your neck like a slice of heaven. 

It didn’t take long for the pace to speed up, he bounced you up and down on his length and you rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust. His name dripped from your lips on a mantra, mixed with your moans as you felt every nerve in your body sparking.

“You feel so good,” he praised, his tone like a primal growl in your ear. You were already so worked up, so needy and so ready for him, your thighs were shaking around him. “Cum for me,” he turned his head to press against yours. 

You caught his gaze, his lusty green hues nearly sending you over right then and there. “Fuck, I love you.” You whispered as he continued to pound into you. Both his hands remained on your hips, but you felt like his fingers were rubbing your clit, bringing a sinful new sound from your lips as you threw your head back.

He kissed at your exposed neck, humming softly as he felt you tighten around him. “Oh fuck, fuck- Dean, I- urrh, Dean,” you cried out, the coil in your body snapping with such force that you stilled momentarily. Your walls clenched around his shaft as you reached your peak, convulsing around him, quivering and jerking in his grasp.

Dean followed not far behind you, spilling his hot seed inside you with a few quiet grunts, thrusting sloppily as you both rode through your high. The moans that dripped from your lips quietened, dulling into whimpers as your hands clawed at his shoulders to keep him close to you. 

“I love you too,” he whispered. You kissed him, hot and heavy through your uneven breath, pausing only to try and re-catch it. Your legs felt like jello, still shaking around his waist. “Do you have any idea how hot you look when you cum?” He smirked, catching your lips with his as he pecked them softly. 

“Gotta say, I’m kinda glad I got hit by that witch now.” He chuckled darkly, sliding himself out of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but he kept a hold of you, keeping you steady. “You don’t need a witchy boost to make me feel like that,” you answered, fluttering your lashes through your love-drunk eyes. It was true after all, Dean could make you crumble with his eyes alone most days. 

“From now on, Devil, witches, apocalypse - it can all wait till we’ve done this at least once a day. These last few weeks have been torture.” He grumbled, kissing your forehead and leaning back to display a boyish smile. 

TAGS;

@teddyboobear

[winchester-barnes]

It Happened

Summary: After getting married a couple years ago, you find out that you’re pregnant. And Bucky will be pissed. ..... Maybe?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Just one swear word, super mild daddy angst at the beginning😂, pregnancy, lots and lots of crying.

A/N: Just my second fic, so be understanding if it sucks, y’all. It’s so cute tho.

Frustration sounds like a soon-to-be dad trying to install a carseat. Bucky has been working with that thing for two hours now and only has it halfway figured out. I know better than to ask him if I can help because he made this his mission, but I’m very tempted to ask anyway. Actually, since we found out that we were expecting Bucky made many things his mission, including installing the carseat into our truck by himself and painting the nursery walls and putting all of the extra baby essentials together with me; he’s accomplished almost every mission now. His nesting senses have been as strong as and at times stronger than mine, and it’s absolutely adorable. Truthfully, I was scared when I learned that I was pregnant. Not scared for myself but scared because of Bucky… I didn’t know how he would react to it; I was afraid that he would be against it and even furious about it. I laugh about it when I think back on it now, but at the time we hadn’t talked seriously about kids—just nonchalantly tossed the idea around every now and then in casual conversation, so I was scared to death leading up to when Bucky found out.

●

He came home from the complex after a day of training and was in good spirits, and I remember thinking how inconvenient the serum was in the aspect of keeping blood levels at absolute normal, meaning I couldn’t get him insanely drunk and then tell him about the baby. We settled in the living room on the couch for a Fresh Prince of Bel-Air marathon while we ate supper. I was so nervous about the news I was going to have to tell Bucky that I barely ate anything, instead I just absentmindedly picked around at the food on my plate with my fork and took only a few bites of it.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” Bucky asked, noticing my odd behavior.

Bucky’s sudden questioning frightened me and I dropped my fork, and the sound of the fork on the glass plate brought me out of my distracted, worried trance. I looked Bucky in the face and tried my best to smile like normal, but he seen right through it. Bucky has always called my bluff more often than I would like him to, but he does it because he knows me better than that.

Something in my fake expression must’ve changed or something because Bucky turned the TV off and set his finished plate down on the coffee table. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he prompted, sounding more concerned, as he turned his whole body towards me and took both of my hands in his. I remember staring into his eyes and feeling tears come into my own eyes as the image of the seven positive pregnancy tests flashed into my mind. Tears rolled down my face as fast as they continued to well in my eyes, and Bucky wiped them away gently before I just let myself fall into his chest and his shirt soaked them up instead. I fought the lump in my throat as long as I could, but I let myself fall apart eventually because despite the news I had yet to tell him, I felt safe in Bucky’s arms. He let me bawl for a solid ten minutes, just holding me, rubbing my back and stroking my hair. I finally calmed myself down enough to lift my head from Bucky’s chest and look at him again, but I wasn’t done crying. He went back to wiping the tears from my face as he stared at me, so confused but so loving.

“Now, can you tell me what’s wrong?” he coaxed easily, pushing my hair behind my ears so he could see my face better.

I couldn’t find my voice at first, but after I did find it I couldn’t form a coherent sentence for a minute. Bucky continued to hold me and dry my face while I blubbered something mostly inaudible about the baby, but he did catch the word “sorry” in my weepy mumbling.

“‘Sorry?’” Bucky repeated. “What’re you sorry for? Or…what is it that I should be sorry for?”

I remained silent for another minute or so before accepting the fact that there was no way around the inevitable. In almost an instant after giving in to what I’d been trying to avoid, I got a grip on myself. I wiped my face with the front of my shirt and blew my nose a few times with tissues from the Kleenex box Bucky handed me, and then I took a deep breath. Immediately, after opening my eyes at the end of my deep breath, I felt even more tears form in my eyes, but I wasn’t going to break down and cry like that again. Not at that moment anyway, I decided. Bucky’s calmness usually helps calm me down, but at that time it didn’t help at all as it only put me more on edge.

“Come with me, James,” I said as I took Bucky’s hand and got up off the couch. He followed me from the living room to the laundry room without asking anymore questions until we got to the sink and stopped. There are still some things Bucky doesn’t know or understand about today’s world—phrases, music, objects, etc.—and pregnancy tests were one of those things at the time.

He looked down into the sink cluelessly at what laid in front of him and then just look back at me.

“What’re these? And what’s wrong? You still haven’t answered that question,” Bucky remarked.

“They’re pregnancy tests, James,” I replied dryly, still fighting tears and another lump in my throat. “And they’re positive. All seven of them.” Nothing truly clicked in Bucky’s mind right off the bat, but I watched as reality or something like it washed over him after a moment.

“Positive,” he said, drawing a breath. “That means yes. And these are pregnancy tests. They are positive tests… That’s what all those pink lines and blue plus signs mean, isn’t it?” I nodded my head yes.

“So you’re trying to tell me…that you are pregnant,” stuttered Bucky. “Right?” I nodded my head yes again and let my tears roll for the second time. I fell back against the wall and slid down till my butt hit the floor, legs tucked in to my chest, my head buried behind my knees, and I was sobbing. I was prepared for any reaction that was about to follow the news except for the reaction I actually got.

Without a word, Bucky knelt down and gently unfolded me. He pretty much wrapped my body around his and picked me up off the floor like a parent does with an upset child. Bucky stood me up after holding me for a few seconds and dried my face yet again but this time with one of his clean shirts from the basket of clothes I had sitting on the table next to the sink.

“What’s with all of this?” he inquired. “Why all this crying? Aren’t you happy, Y/N?”

I practically froze mid-sob and looked him in the eyes. “Are you happy?” I questioned hesitantly. And it was then that I seen tears in his eyes too, but they weren’t tears of fear like mine were, as the smile on his face made that very evident.

“Of course I am, doll!” Bucky exclaimed. “A baby! We’re gonna have a baby!”

I hadn’t quite yet been able to process what was going on at that point, so I continued to talk cautiously. “Yes… Are you not mad or anything?”

Bucky’s happy tears streamed down his face as he answered me. “No, I’m not mad or anything. Why would I be mad about this?”

I forced myself to loosen up some in Bucky’s grip because my body was sore from all of that crying and from being tense with worry all day because Bucky was obviously handling it far better than I thought he would.

“We haven’t had a serious talk about having kids yet and you’re busy with work at the complex and for a while you worried about whether or not you could even make babies.”

Bucky hadn’t thought much about that last issue I mentioned because it made him pretty sad, I would find out.

“Well, it looks like I can make babies. I honestly thought I was sterile due to the serum because Natasha is sterile due to her serum, and our serums I thought were the same but they must be different. But that’s the reason why we started doing it without any contraceptives, remember?” I thought back on what Bucky was talking about and did indeed remember that.

“And as far as work goes,” Bucky continued, “I can start taking it easier so that way I’m home more. Most of everything I do there is on my own accord. And for what isn’t on my own accord, I’m sure Tony will be flexible with me to some extent.”

“What about the no talk about having kids part?” I asked.

“I know we never truly talked about having kids at any point other than just pretty much joking about the scenario sometimes, but I did want to have kids,” confessed Bucky. “I never wanted to talk seriously about it anyway because thinking about me not being able to make babies with you made me sad… It frustrated me because I figured you wanted to have a family of our own as much as I did and I was afraid I couldn’t give it to you. I just thought that if it happened, it happened, and if it didn’t, it just didn’t.” He stopped right there and tears of joy continued to fall from his blue eyes. Bucky knelt down in front of me again, but this time it was to lift my shirt and kiss my belly that was still practically flat. “And it’s happened,” he murmured with his face hugged up to my belly and his arms wrapped around my lower back.

“How have you been feeling?” Bucky asked looking up at me. “Because I’ve heard it can be rough.”

“I’ve been feeling really great actually. Pregnancy is different for every woman, and so far I’m only of the lucky few who doesn’t suffer,” I replied honestly. 

“Good! I hope it stays easy for you. Do you know how far along you are?” he questioned further. 

I shifted my gaze from Bucky to my belly as if I actually thought I could guess based on how I looked, but realized I had no clue. “I don’t know for sure, but thinking back… I missed my last cycle a couple of weeks ago and that’s what made me suspicious, but then I also missed the one before that, which I originally wrote off as just an irregular month because I’ve dealt with irregular cycles since I was younger, but I could’ve been pregnant then because we started having unprotected sex three or four months ago. But guessing off of that, I’m not going to be any further along than eleven or twelve weeks. We need to go to the doctor to find out for sure.”

Bucky simply nodded and smiled. He kissed my belly one more time before standing back up and looking into the sink again. “So, how do these work anyway? How do these little sticks know that you’re pregnant?” he asked, reaching to grab one of them.

I caught his hand before he got ahold of one and laughed. “You only wanna touch one end of those things, sweetheart, so careful which end you grab,” I say in between laughs. “I peed on all of the ends that are pointing down and something that has to do with science lets it know if the test is negative or positive. I don’t know how to explain it very well, that’s the best I got. But if you still want to pick one up, grab this end,” I said, pointing at the handle-end of a test.

That blew Bucky’s mind in a cool and disgusting way, which was made evident by his facial expressions as I explained it to him. He picked one up anyway and looked at it closer and smiled, then another, and then one more. Those three satisfied him enough and he left the rest of them alone. “So, did you…did you pee on them here in the laundry room sink or…,” Bucky joked, on the verge of laughter.

“No,” I replied simply, commencing the laughter. “Where I was scared of telling you, I put them in the sink in here so that way you wouldn’t see them in the sink or even the trashcan in our bathroom after you got home from the complex.” Bucky just rolled his eyes and grinned as he pulled me in for a kiss.

●

“I got it!” thunders Bucky as he enters the house. “The carseat is in the truck and we are ready for this baby!” The proud smile I see on his face as he enters our room is reward enough. “Did you get your hospital bag packed, babe?”

“I got it packed and the diaper bag, too,” I answer. “Want me to pack your hospital bag or do you wanna pack it, James?”

“How about you just lay there on our bed and watch while I pack my bag?” he asks, pulling me as close to him as possible and rubbing my now large nine-month belly. “Because it’s likely that I will forget something if I’m unsupervised, so I need you here to make sure that I don’t forget anything.”

“I can do that,” I chime as I take my spot on our bed and try to make myself comfortable, which is next to impossible. I look on as Bucky begins removing clothes from his dresser, taking enough of each article of clothing to equal three outfits that range from thick sweatpants and a hoodie to shorts and a shirt that he’s cut the sleeves off of. Temperatures don’t bother him thanks to the serum, but he dresses like a normal man that doesn’t have super soldier serum pulsing through him because it helps him not feel like a freak.

As he moves about our room swiftly, glancing at me every few seconds with suggestive eyes but an innocent smile, I realize that my eyes are beginning to dart to objects around Bucky that I see when I watch him. The diaper bag stuffed full of everything we will need and a lot of things that we probably won’t use, my hospital bag (which is bigger than Bucky’s bag) zipped up all neat and ready to go, the small co-sleeping bed attached to our bed… 

“James…,” I mutter slowly. The ferocious manner in which Bucky turns away from his bag and rushes to my side made me realize that I sounded a bit too dramatic there without meaning to. “Nothing’s wrong! I’m sorry, love. I was just going to ask you what in the actual hell is happening right now?”

Bucky drops his head and sighs with relief, then he starts to laugh. His crisp smile is soothing. “I’ve asked myself that question today too. It’s all really crazy, I know,” he utters breathily. “There’s a carseat in our truck, there’s a room in our house that’s dedicated to someone who isn’t even here yet and won’t truly use it very much for a little while, there’s a little bed attached to our big bed for a little human that we’re worried about hurting in our sleep, and that right there is a diaper bag full of diapers and clothes and bottles and pacifiers and small towels that you keep calling burp cloths and who knows what else.” Bucky laughs again and takes a deep breath. I don’t think Bucky has ever talked this much at one time.

“And if I know you, your hospital bag right there is loaded with your phone charger, your lemon sorbet flavored chapstick, that deodorant you like because it doesn’t leave white marks on your shirts, the army green headband thing that doubles as a scarf that I got you last month, probably like seven hair ties, three pairs of regular socks plus one pair of thick wool socks, that really cute shirt Wanda gave you as a baby shower gift that you plan on wearing when you have the baby, your good camera, three pairs of my sweatpants because yours are too small on you right now, three of my t-shirts because you can’t fit your own, probably just one of my hoodies because you can’t fit into your own hoodies right now either, your toothbrush and our toothpaste, and your hairbrush. And I know of other things in that bag, but I’m just not going to talk about them. Other things women need for when they have a baby.”

I giggled while Bucky rambled after I lightened up, but now I’m just laughing with him. I’m not entirely sure why all of that was so funny, but both of us are howling and in tears. I haven’t laughed this hard since the baby shower Laura threw for me at the Barton farm during which Bucky opened a basketful of hilarious gag gifts that all of the ladies pulled together for him before he and the rest of the guys all went outside to drink and play horseshoes. My favorite gift in that basket, which wasn’t really one of the true gag gifts, was a t-shirt that had “Man behind the bump” and two thumbs up printed on it. I later found out that that shirt was actually from Clint and Laura put it in the basket for him. Bucky is going to wear that shirt to the birthing center tomorrow.

In the midst of our laughter, Bucky and I catch each other’s eyes and held eye contact. Our laughing fades slowly the longer we gaze, waning from belly laughs to soft chuckles then to nothing. We are still smiling but we are silent, just relishing in one another in the moment. But, of course, the baby wouldn’t miss an opportunity to get some attention too. I grab both of Bucky’s hands as soon as I feel the baby start to move and lay them on my belly over where the baby was moving. There is nothing any purer than Bucky and his unmatched excited happiness when he gets to feel the baby move. The looks on Bucky’s face and the way he rubs and kisses my belly and how he talks to the baby, it all just absolutely melts my heart. I think Bucky may have bump withdrawals after the baby is born, silly as that sounds. Throughout this whole pregnancy, Bucky has told me at least twice a day how gorgeous I am with a baby belly and he hasn’t been able to stay off of it, bless his loving heart. I have thoroughly enjoyed being pregnant mainly because I got to see a side of Bucky that I didn’t even know existed and it is the most beautiful thing.

●

Our first night as a family of three. And endless thanks to whoever decided to get these huge beds for the birthing center because I wanted to cuddle and sleep with Bucky so bad after not being able to do either of those things for the two nights in a row that I was in labor. Forty-nine hours of unadulterated torture known as labor left me unable to sleep, and the only cuddling we done during those forty-nine hours—which wasn’t even cuddling at all—was when I actually had the baby. He held me strong and steady through it all; he kept me strong and steady through it all. I could not have done it without Bucky, I know I couldn’t have. The only times Bucky left my side was when he had to use the bathroom, that was it, and even for those short amounts of time he hated leaving me. And when the nurses would bring him snacks, he wouldn’t take or eat them in front of me because I was avoiding eating except for when they made me eat a pack of peanut butter crackers. Bucky was my saving grace.

Grant James Barnes. Named after his Uncle Steve and his daddy. It’s crazy to think that he wasn’t here twenty-four hours ago, and now he’s here and sleeping sound in my arms as we sit here and do nothing but gaze at him. All seventeen inches of Grant arrived ‪at 3:09‬ earlier this morning weighing six pounds and eleven ounces and just exactly like his dad. Headful of black hair, electric blue eyes that I bet money will stay blue, a dimpled chin, long skinny fingers, and monster-sized feet for a newborn. Grant’s shoulders are even broad…as a newborn. That’s what gave me the most trouble during his birth. He got stuck at his shoulders and it took me almost too long to push him out past his shoulders. Bucky apologized for giving our son massive shoulders while I was pushing and then laughed it. That was the only time through labor and delivery that I actually thought about elbowing Bucky in the balls but decided against it because, my goodness, I needed that man more than I needed anything and I probably would’ve cried about hurting him later.

“Look what we made,” Bucky whispers before kissing the top of my head. “You done a great job. I couldn’t have done what you did.

I avert my eyes from my son to my husband. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you, James. None of it. Thank you for staying with me and for keeping me going when I wanted to give up.”

Bucky plants a gentle, intimate kiss on my lips and smiles. “I love you, Mrs. Barnes. I love you beyond comprehension. I thought I loved you beyond comprehension yesterday, but watching you go through everything within the past twenty-four hours has made me love you so, so much more. I don’t see how I could love you anymore, but I know I’ll love you more tomorrow more than I love you right now. Even without a rough labor and then giving birth to our son, my love for you grows every day. It always has and it always will.”

I blink rapidly to keep the tears in my eyes from falling but it doesn’t really help. “I’m with you till the end of the line. I will love you through it all. I love you more than you will ever know, James Barnes. And now Grant too. I will love the both of you with more than every fiber of my being till the end of time. Forever and for always.”